


some are a melody and some are the beat

by Cirkne



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: “If we crash and die right now the last thing you said would forever be: No one cares, Richie. How fucked up is that?"Things you said while we were driving.





	some are a melody and some are the beat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizardboyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardboyo/gifts).



Stanley’s in the back of Richie’s shitty car, head resting against the window, watching the sun start to set in front of him. They just dropped Mike off and Beverly, Ben and Bill pulled into Bill’s driveway about twenty minutes ago so it’s just him, Eddie and Richie. Eddie’s driving, eyes focused on the road and knuckles white on the steering wheel like he’s not better at driving than all of them. 

Richie tried to change the song on the radio when it first came on and Stanley had calmly threatened to strangle him if he did so they’re still listening to it. It’ll get too late for Eddie to stay out without making his mother angry soon but he doesn’t look like he cares tonight so Stanley doesn’t remind him. 

“Do you think I’ll ever be allowed to pick the fucking music in my own fucking car?” Richie asks as the song fades out. They had a swear jar for an entire week in their freshman year of high school before it filled completely and they used the money to go to the movie theater. He doesn’t remember what movie they went to see but it’s not like it matters anyway.

“Your taste in music fucking sucks, Richie,” Eddie says and Stanley hums his agreement. 

“I’m so taking back the mixtapes I made you, shitheads,” Richie grumbles but when Stanley leans closer to them to change the song he’s deemed unacceptable, Richie doesn’t protest. He’s made a lot of mixtapes and they’re all pretty much the same. He writes the dates carefully enough to make them readable but doesn’t try as hard with the names. The songs rarely change. Stanley keeps them in a box under his bed and struggles to make one in return. 

“Who says I still have them?” Stanley asks when he finally finds a song he likes and grins at the offended look Richie throws him. Eddie snickers before taking a left.

“I fucking hate you so much,” Richie says narrowing his eyes and looking between them two. “ _So_ much. You’re never allowed in my car again.”

“Alright,” Stanley says, leaning back in his seat at the same time as Eddie asks:

“The quarry?” 

“Yeah, sure and then I leave both of you there and drive back alone and hope you both drown,” Richie says and Stanley smiles to his reflection in the window. It’s probably too cold for the quarry by now but he doesn’t say. 

“And we hope you crash the car which you’ll probably do because you can’t drive for shit and-”

“Eddie, I will personally drown you before I leave.”

“I’d like to see you try, asshole.” They’re both grinning. Richie, his face turned to Eddie and his eyes fond; Eddie, not turning away from the road.

Stanley closes his eyes. Thinks: _I love you both._ Says:

“Turn the radio up if you’re gonna argue.”

*

Mike’s driving, trying his hardest to both reach their destination safely and keep his conversation with Richie. Stanley stopped listening awhile ago. Eddie’s asleep with his head in Stanley’s lap, his seat belt still wrapped around him because that’s the kind of person Eddie is. Stanley tries to stay as still as he can, runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair. It’s two am. The street lights are barely helping but he thinks they’d find their way to Bill’s house anywhere, under any circumstances. 

“Stanley, are you listening?” Richie asks, bringing him back. “If we crash and die right now the last thing you said would forever be: No one cares, Richie. How fucked up is that? They’d put that on your tombstone.”

“Okay no they wouldn’t, no one besides us four would know what was the last thing I said unless they were assuming in which case I hope they think the last thing I said is: Shut the fuck up, Richie.”

“If we crash _now_ it is.”

“If we crash now I hope everyone knows you spent your last moments alive annoying me.”

“He spent all of his life annoying you, Stanley,” Eddie mumbles sleepily from Stanley’s lap. 

“You’re right, Edward, and for that I love you,” Stanley says, smiling, goes back to running his fingers through Eddie’s hair. 

“Now that’s the last thing you’ve ever said,” Mike says and Stanley lifts his head to see they’re pulling into Bill’s driveway already so they probably won’t crash and die tonight after all. Stanley stays quiet till they stop completely, just in case.

*

Bill’s driving. Eddie is probably having a panic attack in the backseat and Beverly keeps repeating:

“It’s fine, he’ll be fine, it’s fine.”

It’s not always murderous clowns that land them in the hospital. Sometimes it’s their own stupidity. Sometimes it’s trying to sneak out of your room at midnight and slipping on the wet garage roof, falling and breaking your leg. 

“He’ll laugh at us,” Stanley says once everything his friends are doing has turned into white noise.

“W- what?” Bill asks, voice strained, jaw clenched, hands digging into the wheel.

“He’ll laugh at us for getting there so fast. Say it’s not a big deal,” Stanley explains. It’s still raining.

“Won’t mean it,” Eddie says, sounds like he can barely breathe. Stanley wants, desperately, to hold his hand but knows it would only make things worse.

“I fucking hate him,” Beverly says, breaking her mantra if only for a moment. Her voice humorless and full of worry.

“Get in line.” Stanley answers, bites hard on the inside of his cheek. Bill speeds up.

*

Eddie’s driving again and Richie sits in the back, his new crutches resting against the car door, his eyes focused on Eddie but his gaze looking through him. His parents didn’t want to bother with picking him up. His parents didn’t want to-

So they’re here. So Eddie’s driving again. Stanley drums his fingers against the dashboard and keeps looking at Richie and Richie isn’t looking at anything. It stopped raining.

Eventually, Richie licks his lips, says:

“Sorry,” his voice doesn’t sound like it’s his. Raw. Vulnerable.

“It’s not your fault,” Eddie answers. Richie stays quiet for a long time until, finally:

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Stanley echoes. They pass Richie’s house and he doesn’t ask where they’re going. He doubts Eddie knows anyway. 

*

Ben’s riding shotgun in Bill’s car. Bill turns down the song, Stanley meets his eyes in the rear view mirror. Blinks. Bill blinks back. Eddie and Richie are sleeping on either side of him, their heads on his shoulders, their hands in his. Bill circles the neighborhood three times before he actually stops at Stanley’s house. Stanley breathes out. Clears his throat.

“Wake up,” whispers. “I need to get out.”

“No,” Eddie.

“Stay,” Richie.

Bill starts the car again. 

*

They’re parked somewhere near the barrens. Richie, sideways in the back seat, temple against the back of the front seat, eyes closed. Eddie, next to him, peeling an orange. The entire car smells of oranges. They don’t know why they stopped. Felt right. Stanley watches a car drive past them. 

“I’m in love with you two,” he says or maybe Richie says it. Eddie puts a segment of the orange in his mouth. Gives both of them segments too. 

They all taste like oranges when they fumble into kissing. Later, when Eddie starts the car again, Richie leans into the space between the front seats and says:

“I’m allergic to citrus.”

“Good,” Stanley answers.

“I hope you have an allergic reaction and die,” Eddie tells him. They keep driving.

**Author's Note:**

> my favorite thing about writing is googling what orange pieces are called and also reposting this fic bc i fucced up the first time
> 
> title from forever young by whoevers the original source i dont remember


End file.
